


Never (Oh, Have I Ever)

by Osidiano



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talk, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Everything is an Arbitrary Excuse to Get Them to Bang, Genderplay, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Relationship, Spit As Lube, feminization kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidiano/pseuds/Osidiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the capkink meme; "Bucky's favorite fantasy is that he was born a woman. He's not trans, he's just of the opinion that his life would have been infinitely better if he was a girl. Yeah, being a woman's no picnic, but! No war, and he's pretty damn sure he and Steve would have had half a dozen asthmatic kids by the time WWII started (because Bucky's goddamn certain he'd have been riding Steve since they were sixteen), so no medical experimentation for Steve, either.</p><p>He voices the opinion during an Avengers' drinking game. This is how Steve finds out Bucky's in love with him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never (Oh, Have I Ever)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this way back in _August_ while taking a break from [Simple](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3227258) and then abandoned it when I got distracted by something shiny. Whoops. This is me finally getting around to wrapping it up! Also attempting to write from Steve's perspective is way harder for me than writing from Bucky's or Sam's.

It was Tony’s idea, of course, to play a drinking game under the guise of helping Bucky remember his life before becoming the Winter Soldier. Steve had frowned disapprovingly, had fixed him with his best ‘Captain America is Disappointed With Your Life Choices’ glare, but to no avail. It didn’t matter that Bucky had been coping just fine for the last four months without anyone else’s intervention, or that Steve had only recently stopped being too protective to let the sniper join them on a handful of Avengers missions.

When Tony got a dumb idea in his head, it was next to impossible to dissuade him from acting on it. Clint had been the next person to jump on the band wagon, backing up the idea by saying that it would be good as a team bonding exercise. Natasha had rolled her eyes and said nothing, but that hardly made her innocent. If you weren’t against the idea, you were for it, after all.

Steve wasn’t sure how they got ahold of Thor and not Bruce, but the Asgardian showed up with enough alcohol to have gotten the whole Army fantastically blitzed. As it was, there was just the six of them in the den on the eighty-second floor of the Avengers Tower, draped across the sprawling sofa and tucked into chairs around the glass coffee table as they laughed over stupid stories and fond memories.

Even Bucky managed a few small smiles and anecdotes, and that alone made the game worth it, Steve thought.

“Never have I ever. . .” the captain paused, looking down into his drink and swirling the liquid around. They were drinking out of red plastic cups instead of real glasses because Tony said it reminded him of MIT and 'damnit, that’s how you're supposed to drink when you played these sorts of games,' apparently, 'like you’re young and stupid and invincible and got nothing to lose.' Steve felt pleasant and warm and a little tipsy for the first time in over seventy years. The liquid was smooth and amber colored, tasted sweet and heavy with a sharp afterbite and slow burn on his tongue. If he drank it quick, the alcohol would affect him for a short period before his Super Soldier metabolism worked through it. He picked his words carefully, because he wanted to make as many of them drink as he could this round and didn't want to slur. “Slept with a woman.”

“Damnit!” Clint took a long drink from his beer; he had switched to the bottles Tony kept in the bar after realizing that he wouldn’t last long if he was drinking the alien alcohol. Natasha took her shot of plum brandy without comment and then refilled her shot glass. She had had to drink nearly every turn so far, and she was starting to run low on alcohol and couldn't keep her lips from pressing together to fight off a smile.

“I don’t have to drink for _every_ woman I’ve slept with, right?” Tony asked, even though they all knew that he didn’t need the clarification. He knew the rules better than any of them; it was his game, after all. Thor just laughed and emptied his cup, which he had been doing all night despite being told several times that he only needed to take a drink if he had done something.

Bucky didn't move, his brow furrowed in thought. He was sitting next to Steve on the couch, trying to remember what he had or had not done. Steve nudged him gently with his elbow, grinning a little lopsided. He had missed this: being close to Bucky, touching him without intention to subdue or apply pressure to a wound. Talking to him about something other than mission statuses and ammo counts.

“You gotta drink, too, Buck,” he said, only realizing after that it had sounded too soft, too fond for the kind of tentative relationship that they had now. Hell, it was probably too sappy for the kind of relationship they'd had _back then_ , too, but it felt nice not to have to police it, and if anyone called him on it Steve was pretty sure he could believably pass himself off as a sentimental drunk.

“I do?” Bucky asked, blinking slowly, his vision unfocused. The alcohol must have been starting to get to him, too. Steve didn't know how similar their versions of the serum were, but he had thought they wouldn't need to worry about getting Bucky drunk. Maybe he should suggest they both slow down and switch to water for a bit, give their livers time to catch up.

“Oh yeah. You had a lot of girls before the war,” Steve told him, though his smile went a little tight. He had served as Bucky’s memory a few times tonight already, prompting him with little comments about the way things used to be. It hurt to be the only one who remembered, but Steve figured his friend just needed more time. There had already been a lot that Bucky remembered on his own. He knew that he had been to see the circus before, that he had grown up with siblings, and that he had tried a surprising variety of ethnic foods over the years. Bucky nodded and took a drink.

Of course, Bucky’s girls had always hurt, even before the war and amnesia. Steve tried not to think about them and their painted lips, their curled hair, their soft curves and melodic laughter. Bucky had liked girls who knew how to dance and let him kiss their fingers when he shared cigarettes with them. Blondes and brunettes and that redheaded daughter of old man Maguire's.

He tried not to think about them now, and the way his friend had made them giggle and gasp behind the closed bedroom door when they would make it back to the apartment they shared in Brooklyn. Bucky would whisper things to them, breathy and unintelligible through the distance and barriers, but it always used to make Steve think of Bucky’s mouth, lips and tongue wet as he was probably working his way down her body. Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d always thought too much about Bucky's girls and what he did with them.

“Steve. _Steve_ ,” Natasha said with that particular breed of undue seriousness that gave away her own – unsuccessful – battle with sobriety, her mouth twisting into a pretty pout. “You’ve _got_ to let me hook you up with a nice girl.” The statement prompted Tony and Clint to howl with laughter until they were both red in the face. Thor nodded along and poured himself another drink, opting for Natasha's brandy this time. It was nearly empty. Steve tried not to look too embarrassed or hide in his cup. “You’re ninety-five, not dead, remember?”

Ninety-six now, but who was counting?

“It is indeed a shame a great warrior like you has not known these comforts,” Thor added, agreeing with Natasha's sentiment.

“Okay! Who’s turn now?” Steve asked loudly instead of replying to either of those comments, trying to look anywhere in the room but at the other Avengers. Bucky was watching him with that careful, thoughtful expression he used to get before he suggested they go out on a truly disastrous double date. It made Steve's heart twist up into his throat and he took a drink to try to force it back down into his chest where it belonged. The very last thing he needed was for Natasha _and_ Bucky to play matchmaker for him.

“O-okay, okay, my, my turn,” Clint stumbled over the words as he tried to catch his breath between laughs. “Never. . . never have I ever worn a dress.”

Natasha took a drink. Tony shrugged and mentioned that he probably did when he was at MIT; there were apparently several years of drunken haze that he didn't quite recall but that everyone was sure would be responsible for getting him trashed that night. Bucky lifted his cup to his lips.

“Wait, Buck,” Steve said, putting a hand on the cool metal of his friend’s arm. Bucky paused with a questioning look. He must have been drunker than Steve thought. “You only drink if you _have_ done it, remember?”

“I know. I did,” he replied, and at Steve’s confused look he elaborated, “I’ve worn a dress.”

“Oh god, tell me that it was part of some glorious assassination plot,” Tony chuckled. Clint was laughing so hard that he might start crying. “Tell me you had to dress in drag for Mother Russia, or that it was for some trashy Hydra party.”

Bucky glared at Tony, and swallowed his drink. “Don’t be stupid. It was before.”

“Before? Before the war?” Steve repeated it, his stomach dropping. They had been inseparable before Bucky shipped out to Basic. Had this been part of some sort of hazing during training? He had thought that he knew everything about Bucky before the fall.

“Yeah. It was. . .” he paused, thinking hard again. “1934? And. . . and I did it a bunch of times after we got that little flat together. Used to wear 'em when you weren't home, before I shipped out to Europe. I. . ." Bucky faltered, looking stricken as the rest of the memory came into focus. "I didn't want you to know. That's why I never told you."

They all stared at Bucky in silence for a moment, trying to process what that information meant or what they were supposed to do with it. Steve’s mouth was hanging open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He wanted to ask _why_ , but knew it didn’t really matter. Steve had Bucky’s back regardless of whether he wore kevlar or lace, though the thought of it struck a chord in him. It was easy to imagine, the same way he had always been able to imagine Bucky naked.

"You didn't want me to know," Steve repeated, unable to do anything but parrot it back dumbly. Bucky shifted uncertainly next to him, and took another drink to stall.

“Well, I’m going to get more drinks from the kitchen,” Natasha announced to break the awkward silence, standing unsteadily. “Tony, Clint, give me a hand? Thor, you better come, too; I might need you to lift heavy things.”

“What heavy things?” the Asgardian asked, but also rose. Natasha was clearly not steering them towards the kitchen but rather towards the elevator.

“Never have I ever done cocaine!” Tony shouted from the hallway. It was followed by a thud, most likely the sound of Clint stumbling heavily and nearly falling, and then more laughter. Thor murmured something encouraging, perhaps trying to steady him.

“You have too, and it’s not even your turn,” Natasha scolded, no doubt herding the other drunks into the elevator. They all knew that he had, back in his party days before hiring on Pepper as his personal assistant. She shouted back to the captain to let him know that they were all definitely leaving now because, “It’s late and I’m tired, and no one is staying! Good night, Steve!”

Their exit was anything but smooth, but Steve was thankful for it regardless. He waved to them absently, his attention still firmly on Bucky. Steve didn't want to have this conversation with an audience. Shit, he didn’t know if he wanted to have this conversation at all.

Except that he did. Oh, _god_ , Steve absolutely did want to have this conversation and hear more about those dresses. His mind was fuzzy with alcohol and he felt like a pervert, already imagining his best friend all dressed up to the nines or wearing girly underthings. It made it hard to focus on anything other than the swelling of his cock. He wished he had had the foresight to wear looser jeans.

Steve wondered what kind of dresses Bucky had worn, and how he had never known about it, despite the fact that they were living together for most of that eight year period. The thought of loose skirts, of hemlines falling around Bucky’s knees, of Steve being able to push it up over his muscular thighs, of the ease with which he could imagine kneeling in front of him. . .

Oh. _Oh, Christ_. Now he was thinking about Bucky, not 1930's Bucky, but Bucky right here, right now, in goddamn _lingerie_. The captain set his drink down on the coffee table, trying to ignore his growing arousal.

“I. . .” Bucky started after a moment, then stopped with a sigh, putting his cup on the table next to Steve’s and running his flesh hand through his hair. “You woulda thought it was weird, so I just kept it to myself, that's all."

"But you. . . It was something you liked?"

"I remember thinking that it would have been nice, you know, to be a girl, so sometimes I would dress up when you weren’t home, and just. . . pretend.”

“Is that. . .” Steve paused, uncertain what he wanted to ask. He was pretty sure that Bucky didn’t have any clothes like that now; he never left the tower alone, and no one really trusted JARVIS’s privacy settings enough to try to secretly order anything online. “Is that something you still want to do?”

“It’s not like, like I really wanted to be a woman,” Bucky tried to explain, fidgeting before grabbing his cup again and taking a long drink. Liquid courage perhaps, or maybe the alcohol was helping him remember because he was talking a little faster and he was getting more animated and Steve could hear the hint of an accent when he spoke. “It was just a. . . a nice thing to pretend. And I thought about it a lot while I was over there. You know, because life would have been better, for both of us. Nobody whispering behind our backs when we moved in together and I took care of you. No draft for me, so I wouldn’t have had to ship out and leave you on your own. You wouldn’t have joined up, either, if I was your girl and I said I needed you to stay.”

Steve’s surprise must have shown on his face, the way he caught the term ‘your girl’ like it was the only thing Bucky had said, because he kept talking:

“It woulda been so simple if I was born a girl, because we coulda got married and nobody would’ve thought a thing of it. Don’t be mad, Steve –”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted quickly, almost more exhalation than anything else, and put a hand hesitantly on Bucky’s knee. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Bucky might have wanted to be his girl and get married. “I’d never be mad at you for wanting something. Tell me about it?"

Bucky looked down at where Steve’s hand was resting on his leg, and licked his lips slowly, bit his bottom lip. He seemed to be debating whether or not he wanted to answer. Steve inched a little closer to him on the couch, leaned in and said his name softly, “Buck?”

“You. . . What, you want me to tell you what I was thinkin’ about, when I’d doll myself up for you?”

Steve’s breath hitched, his mouth feeling dry. His hand tightened on Bucky’s leg, squeezing gently. He didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when the man you’ve been in love with your whole life admitted to something like that? His tongue was tied in knots and there was a lump of emotion in his throat that he couldn’t get past at first. And he was so fucking hard it hurt, his cock aching where it was pressed into the zipper of his jeans. Steve shifted, knees spreading, trying to find a more comfortable position without drawing too much attention to his predicament. He croaked out a hesitant, "Ye-yeah?"

Bucky’s gaze flicked to his crotch and Steve realized that they were both altogether too drunk to be doing this, because Steve wasn’t being nearly as stealthy as he thought he’d been. The other man’s eyes went dark with _knowing_.

“Well, I was thinkin’ that. . . that you were such a punk, Stevie, but you woulda been real nice to me if I’d been your girl.” Bucky glanced up from under long dark lashes, lips twitching up in a smirk. It was a look Steve knew well from the old days together, a reckless daring look. A challenge. He leaned in, closing some of the distance between them so that their noses almost touched. " _Yeah_ ,” he said, his breath hot where it fanned over Steve’s mouth. God, Steve wanted to kiss him right now. His voice was a hungry whisper, so reminiscent of those bedroom murmurs Steve remembered from a lifetime ago behind doors they never opened. “You want me to tell you just how nice I thought you'd be? Wanna hear all about my dirty little fantasies?"

Steve flushed at that from the tips of his ears down past his shirt collar. Bucky huffed a little laugh at his expense but didn’t pull away. He felt dizzy and he wasn’t sure if it was the proximity or the alcohol, but he didn’t really care. Bucky rearranged himself next to Steve, tucking one leg up onto the couch as he turned, pushing into Steve’s space. Steve went easily, giving ground as he leaned back towards the arm rest. “You. . . you thought I’d be nice?”

“Oh, _so nice_ , Stevie,” Bucky crooned, hands coming up to rest on Steve’s broad shoulders. At some point, he’d put his cup down. Steve’s cup fell from loose fingers to spill its content across the carpet. Bucky didn’t seem to notice. Steve didn’t give a single shit if it stained Stark’s stupid, expensive carpet. He let Bucky push him all the way down onto the couch, let Bucky climb up over him so that his knees bracketed Steve’s hips. His other hand was still on Bucky's leg, and he'd let it creep up the other man's thigh as they changed position. “Thought you’d take me out dancin’ like a nice lady and tell me that I looked good enough to eat, and then you’d hike up my skirt in the stairwell up to our apartment and make me come just for you, just fingers and tongue, before you’d even let me get the door open.”

“Je-Jesus _Christ_ , Bucky.” He didn’t know what he was going to say after that, because Bucky was leaning in, was pressing their bodies together. All the words seemed to tumble away from him when Bucky licked his lips again, so close that Steve could feel the barest brush of the man’s tongue. God, Bucky had a mouth made to sin, and it felt like the sweetest agony to have this kind of intimacy now, with all their history still between them. His heart was racing, and Steve choked on a moan, thrusting up into the hand Bucky snuck between them to palm at him through his jeans.

“I wanted you to call me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘dollface’ and tell me how fuckin’ pretty I was, all laid out and gaspin’ for ya,” Bucky breathed it out through clenched teeth and a tense jaw, whispered it into the captain's mouth. Steve’s hands came up to Bucky’s waist, pawing clumsily as he rucked up his shirt, seeking skin. Bucky was hot to the touch as Steve’s hand slid up over his ribs and he groped at Bucky’s chest. “Or do you wanna hear about how I’d want it so bad that I would _beg you_ to give it to me all the time, but you wouldn’t never make me feel dirty or whorish no matter how fuckin’ slutty I wanted to be for you. You’d be a goddamn gentleman and make sure I felt so good, Stevie.”

Bucky moved his hand out of the way, rolling his hips down against Steve, who could only moan again and close his eyes at the delicious friction. “God, Bucky, you're. . . You are pretty. You always been pretty.”

Their lips met clumsily, hungry and desperate. It tasted like the alcohol, smooth and sweet, and Bucky’s stubble scratched at his face. Steve didn’t care. Bucky was all wet heat and desire, his hands moving from Steve’s shoulders to his face and hair, metal fingers tangling in the short strands. Steve wrapped strong arms around him, slid one down the long expanse of Bucky’s spine, under the loose waistband of Bucky’s pants to grab a handful of his firm ass. It made Bucky sigh and groan and kiss him harder, bite at Steve’s lower lip and suck it into his own mouth for a moment before letting go to speak.

“I’d think about riding you every chance I got, any time you were feelin’ good enough to get it up, and some nights I’d imagine you’d just lay back and tell me to _bounce_.” His mouth was mesmerizing as he whispered that final word against Steve’s ear, his lips brushing skin as he nibbled his way back to the captain's mouth. A quiet, almost pained whimpering sound escaped Steve, who squeezed Bucky’s ass and tried to pull him impossibly closer. “You’d tell me I was your girl, _your best girl_ , and we woulda got married and had a whole flock of asthmatic little kids before the war ever even started.”

“You. . . Do you still wanna be my girl, Bucky?” Steve asked between kisses. Bucky grinned against his mouth, making Steve mumble the next words into his teeth. “You wanna be my good girl?”

Bucky answered by grinding down on him in a truly debauched fashion, then licked along Steve’s jaw and sucked a hard mark onto his throat that would fade too quickly for either of their liking. Steve’s fingers pressed against Bucky’s asshole through his underwear, rubbing slow and gentle over it. He’d never slept with a man before, but Steve had watched enough gay porn in the new millennium to know what he wanted to do next.

“I need. . .” he started to say, but lost the train of thought to a wordless sound of pleasure. Bucky seemed torn between pressing back into Steve’s hand and rutting forward. His hips rocked, and he tugged on Steve’s hair to bring his attention back to the point he wanted to make. “I need to get you on a bed.”

“Yeah?” Bucky whispered, panting open-mouthed against Steve’s neck. “‘Cause you could have me right here, right now, we don’t gotta wait. Haven’t we waited enough?”

“Baby,” Steve said, and was about to go on and be the responsible adult who brought up things like ‘beds are more comfortable’ and ‘we should probably use lube for this’ when Bucky broke away just long enough to struggle out of his shirt.

“Call me that again,” he demanded, and Steve forgot about everything else because Bucky was strong and solid and impossibly powerful and looked liked every wet dream he'd ever had.

“Baby- _doll_ ,” he breathed the words, surprised at how easy they were to say. He sat up to press his mouth to Bucky’s exposed chest, licking down from the dip of his clavicle. “My girl, my darlin’, my. . . _God_ , you’re pretty, you’re goddamn _gorgeous_.” Bucky hummed his appreciation of the praise, and arched his back as Steve sucked at the swell of his pec. Steve brushed his lips over the reddened skin in gentle kisses before lapping at one pert nipple. He nipped it with his teeth in a little bite, which made Bucky gasp, jump and then chuckle. Steve's eyes flicked back to Bucky's face as he rolled his tongue over Bucky's nipple again before pulling off. “You need me, baby? You need it bad?”

“So bad,” Bucky whined in reply, purposefully squirming in Steve's lap. “C’mon. _Gimme_.”

“What, you don’t say ‘please?’” Steve teased. Bucky scowled darkly and pushed him back into the couch cushions by planting his metal hand on Steve’s sternum, his right hand going for the button on Steve’s pants.

“No, you little shit, m’ _not_ gonna say ‘please.’ Now take your fuckin’ pants off; I want you to rearrange my insides with that big dick of yours.”

Steve laughed. “Come on, be good for me?” he asked. They pushed and pulled at each other, half falling off the couch as Steve rearranged them so that Bucky was on his back beneath him. Bucky snorted at the request, his own pants already undone as he tried to wiggle out of them. With his legs spread to accommodate Steve between them, though, he could only get them down so far, the waistband stretched around his muscular thighs. “Be my sweet girl and let me take care of you tonight, yeah? I promise, Buck, I'll give you whatever you need. _Anything_ , swear to God.”

“I need _you_ ,” Bucky complained, his tone petulant. “ _Now_.”

“Oh, sweetheart, be patient.”

“I been 'patient' for eighty fuckin' years, Steve,” Bucky snapped, tugging Steve's shirt off. Steve went along with it and smiled at him, too sweet and wholesome for what he was thinking about doing next, and sunk down low enough to press a kiss just below Bucky’s navel. Bucky's breath caught for a moment and then escaped in a moan as Steve worked his underwear down and watched Bucky's hard cock bob enticingly in front of his face with every flex and quiver of his abdominal muscles.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Steve reminded him, and then opened his mouth and licked a hot, flat stripe up the length of Bucky's dick, reveling in the taste.

Because, _holy shit_ , Steve knew what Bucky's skin tasted like now. He tongued at the ridge along the head, licked up to Bucky's weeping slit and sucked at the tip of his dick just because he _could_. Because Bucky _wanted him to_ , his body straining with the obvious desire to thrust up into Steve's mouth. “ _Oh my god_ ,” Bucky groaned, eyes closing and head falling back. “ _Please_ , Stevie.”

He'd never given a suckjob before, but he liked the feel of it, the way Bucky stretched his mouth when he took in more of him. The weight of him sliding on his tongue as Steve bobbed his head. God, he liked the way that getting sucked made Bucky babble, breathy and uncontrollable, about needing Steve to fuck him. But his hands were occupied with Bucky's hips and supporting their unstable position on the couch to keep them from tumbling to the floor, and Bucky's pants were still in the way.

Steve pulled off with a wet slurp that made him blush and Bucky grin.

“Pants,” he mumbled, and pawed at Buck's legs to assist. They yanked off the rest of their clothes, throwing them haphazardly in their haste. And, _god_ , Bucky was even more beautiful naked than Steve imagined, all hard perfect lines and muscle. There were some pale scars around his left shoulder and down that side from when Hydra or the Red Room had attached the metal arm, but his skin was smooth and unblemished everywhere else, no doubt a side effect of his version of the serum.

“Yeah? You like what you see, handsome?” It was Bucky's turn to tease him, and he was obviously preening under the attention, laying back on the couch in an inviting sprawl with his left arm tucked under his head and his right hand leisurely stroking his dick. Putting on a show for Steve, who had never undressed faster in his damn life.

And he used to be a glorified chorus girl, so that was sayin' something.

“Yeah, I. . . I like it,” Steve managed, his face hot and feeling flustered like he hadn't just had Bucky's entire dick in his mouth. Bucky bit down on his lower lip, his gaze trailing down Steve's body with obvious desire. “Buck, ain't _nobody_ pretty like you are.”

Bucky let out another needy noise, this one half sob, as his hand sped up. “Come on, _c'mere_ , don't make me wait anymore,” he begged, knees falling open even wider and his hips tilting up. Steve could see all of him like that, smooth and hairless and so exposed that it made his mouth go a little dry. He couldn't tell if the lack of body hair even down there was another serum side effect or something Bucky did on purpose.

He moved back between Bucky's thighs, cradled a leg in the crook of his arm and sucked on the first two fingers of his other hand to get them wet. Steve knew, in the back of his mind, that they should be using lube, but he didn't have any on hand, and besides, queers had been having sex for a lot longer than KY had been in business. This would do.

Steve would be careful. He'd be so fuckin' gentle.

“I'll take you out dancin' after this,” Steve promised, rubbing his wet fingers over and around the tight pucker of Bucky's asshole. Bucky squirmed, gasped, shoulders going back and muscles flexing as his body rolled up at the feeling. He teased the tip of his index finger into Bucky. “Swing you 'round and show you off to all my friends –”

“Oh god.”

“You gonna wear that dress I like?” he asked, and paused to gather saliva on his tongue before he leaned back just enough to spit. It hit a little high on Bucky's perineum, and Steve watched the frothy substance slide down toward his fingers with an intensity that surprised himself. Bucky keened, squeezing his eyes shut.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Would you –“ He was starting to babble, too, now, and the deeper he got his finger into Bucky the worse it got. Steve hadn't been good at talking to dames back in the day because his filter would get lost in his excitement or his nervousness, and he'd say things he shouldn't have said instead of getting tongue-tied like so many other boys. Bucky felt hot and tight, and the slide was a little on the rough side but Bucky didn't seem to mind, seemed to like it like that, and all Steve could think about up in the forefront of his thoughts was how good this was going to feel wrapped around his dick. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, “Leave your panties at home? When we go dancing? Make it real easy for me to slip it to you, if you want it and don't wanna wait.”

“ _Steve_ , fuck me, please, _god_ , whatever you want, okay? Whatever you want, just, _please_.”

He wasn't quick about it, working Bucky open with two fingers. Occasionally he pulled them out to put them in his mouth again, rewetting them before sliding back in. Steve tried a lot of things he'd seen in porn: crossing his fingers one over the other and twisting his wrist a little on the push; pressing his thumb against the skin just behind Bucky's balls in slow circles while he pumped his fingers in and out and back in again. He found Bucky's prostate practically on accident, and spent several long minutes rubbing at it and teasing it and toying with it because Steve thought the way it pushed Bucky past words and made him writhe on the couch beneath him was goddamn beautiful.

Bucky came like that with a sharp cry, tugging desperately on his dick with Steve's fingers massaging that sensitive spot in his body, painting his stomach white and sticky.

“Oh,” Steve murmured, spreading his fingers apart to test the stretch. Bucky was shaking and maybe a little overstimulated in the aftermath of his orgasm, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his breath hitching on Steve's every move. He was relaxing though, and maybe it was because he'd just come or was still a little drunk, or maybe it was because Bucky was a world-class sniper and could control things like his heart rate and his breathing and even his own damn _body temperature_ when he needed to, but the wet rim of his asshole felt loose and gave easily when Steve tugged at it with his fingertips. “Yeah? You still want it?”

“I. . .” Bucky stared up at the ceiling unseeingly, eyelashes damp. His left hand finally made its way down from where he'd been gripping his own hair to grab at Steve's upper arm with a bruising level of force. The plates shifted, a soft whirring sound of moving gears, and it should _not_ have made Steve's hands or cock twitch like that. “ _Augh_. I. . . I swear. . . I swear to _fucking God_ , if you don't, I'm gonna –“

“Shh,” Steve hushed him, and kissed the inside of Bucky's knee where he was still cradling one leg in his arm, as he folded that big strong body up just a little bit more for the angle. “I know. I'm a nice boy, remember? I'll give you what you need. I always take care of my girl, don't I?”

“ _Stevie_ ,” Bucky whimpered helplessly, but didn't seem to have anything else to add. Steve moved his hand out of the way to spit into it one last time. It wasn't a lot, but he figured it was better than nothing, as he worked the saliva over his aching and neglected cock before nudging the blunt head up against Bucky's hole, which tensed and then almost immediately relaxed again, an odd fluttery kind of sensation that made Steve's brain short out.

So he wasn't really thinking much of anything when he started to press forward, when Bucky opened up for him with sweet moans, all hot and perfect, a tight, smooth squeeze as Steve slid in, inch by slow, agonizing inch until their bodies were flush and he was fully seated. And then it was just pressure all around him and he couldn't even breathe because now he was _inside_ Bucky, in a way that he hadn't ever been, hadn't ever thought he would get to be. He couldn't move, couldn't handle even the tiniest shift of his body to inhale because it would be too much, too intense, too good.

Steve didn't deserve anything this good and he was pretty sure he was going _to die_ when Bucky started to rock his hips, forcing just the root of Steve's cock in and out. “C'mon,” he whispered, biting his lower lip so hard the skin looked about to break and trying to work his own dick back up for a second round with his right hand, slick with his own come. “ _C'mon_ , Stevie, gimme it, I want. . . I need. . . fuck, _please_. Ain't I been a good girl for you? Huh? Ain't I your best gal?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, Bucky, yeah, 'course you are.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he stumbled through the words as he loomed over Bucky and started to thrust. Steve kept it slow, kept it deep, kept pulling back and being careful not to snap his hips forward too hard even though that was what he really wanted to do. His spit-slick fingers skittered over the skin at Bucky's hip, seeking purchase. He wanted to pound Bucky into the couch cushions until he was screaming, until he was breathless, until he could only wail wordlessly.

Next time, he told himself, sweat dripping in his eyes when he turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against Bucky's left arm. Next time.

“I'm not gonna last,” he mumbled, apologetic, into the prosthetic. A plate shifted against his tongue, tension pooling at the base of his spine as his teeth scraped across hard metal.

"I want you to come on me."

"What?" Steve's rhythm faltered, slowed for a moment as he looked down at Bucky's face in confusion. Bucky was still biting his lower lip, hand still moving as he jacked himself. He was hard again, but probably not nearly as close as Steve was.

"On me, on my tits," Bucky clarified. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Steve thrust in again, harder than he meant to, before he leaned down to kiss at Bucky's jaw and ask, voice soft:

"You don't want me to come in you? Give you some of them asthmatic little babies you wanted so bad?"

Bucky groaned, squeezing his own dick just a little too hard to be fully comfortable, like he might just blow it right then and there. He squirmed again, clenching down tight enough to make Steve gasp. " _Fuck_. Yeah? Yeah, I want that, Stevie. Fill me up, I wan' it."

“Y-yeah?”

“God, I want it. C’mon, please? Please, I-I want –” he cut off with a little cry, eyes shut. “I _need it_ , Steve, Stevie, _please_.”

It didn't take Steve long after that, not with Bucky begging and needy and tight like that. Not with the slow, deep pace he set, the sound of their skin smacking together and their breaths harsh and panted into the air between them, the slight mechanical whir of Bucky's metal arm every time his grip shifted on Steve's sweaty shoulder. Steve stilled, his mouth open and moving, silent as the waves of his orgasm rushed through him and Bucky's insides seemed to milk it from him so that it lasted and lasted and _lasted_.

When it was finally over, he practically fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest behind the sniper's head with his free hand and bowing his back up a little so that there was still room for Bucky's hand between them. He was about to ask if Bucky could even come again this soon, but Bucky was grinding his hips, moving on Steve's sensitive, softening dick, and there was a wet, squelchy kind of feeling that he recognized a second too late as being his come slicking the way, and he was saying, “Don't, don't pull out, Stevie, please, please, _please_ –“

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve hissed, and then Bucky was surging up to bite at his chest and whimpering, cock jerking and spitting another ribbon of semen up onto his stomach. It sounded like it hurt this time, and there wasn't as much, and then they both settled on the couch, Steve slumping heavily on top of Bucky and smearing come on his skin as they both tried to catch their breath.

On the bright side, that had been _fucking amazing_. On the down side, they had definitely burned through the alcohol in their systems and probably had to deal with. . . with whatever the hell this was, now. Bucky kept his eyes glued to the ceiling like there was something fascinating up there, his metal palm rubbing gentle circles between Steve's shoulder blades. Steve pressed a hesitant kiss to his stubbled cheek and asked, voice laced with worry, “Bucky?”

“Did you. . . did you mean all that? Or were you just –”

“No,” he interrupted. Bucky grimaced, and Steve kissed him again, quick, before he rushed to explain, “I mean, yeah, I meant it, and no, I wasn't just sayin' all that.”

“But. . . but this was like, a one time thing? 'Cause you were drunk and I'm pretty?” he asked, uncertain, and it was Steve's turn to make a face.

“No. No, I'll take you to the movies, and we'll go to dinner first, next time.”

“Next time? What, like a date?”

“Yeah. Yeah, like a real date. I don't want nobody thinkin' you're fast, or something,” Steve said, lips trailing along Bucky's jawline. “We'll go steady.”

Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, but finally turned his head for a proper kiss. Steve tried to keep it chaste, tried to keep it sweet, but Bucky opened his mouth and made it dirty and sucked on his tongue like what he really wanted to do was suck on his dick. Steve moaned, and Bucky murmured, “People gonna wonder what a nice boy like you is doin' with a gal like me.”

"Oh, I'll make an honest woman out of you yet, James Barnes, just you wait an' see," Steve snapped, and Bucky just laughed again and kissed him harder.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://capkink.dreamwidth.org/1349.html?thread=587333#cmt587333). The ‘good enough to eat’ line was a reference to [Pretty Little Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3221696) by [rusting_roses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rusting_roses/pseuds/rusting_roses), which is a very sexy read about genderfluid!Steve and Bucky reconnecting post CA:TWS, and the ‘rearrange my insides with that big dick of yours’ was a reference to my favorite dirty-talking bottom!Bucky fic, [zetsubonna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna)'s [We’ve Got Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2123388/chapters/4633629).


End file.
